


Days and Days

by mashupishu (Jacquelinne)



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, guard corin, plot divergence from ice and luck, prisoner mando, womp rat and his dad get caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23982430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacquelinne/pseuds/mashupishu
Summary: To CT-113, the Mandalorian and his child are just prisoners.That's all they are and all they'd ever be.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin/Corin Valentis
Comments: 17
Kudos: 109





	Days and Days

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ice and luck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594913) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> literally read as many Corin/Din stories as I could after reading the series.  
> please send help.

It may be absurd for a stormtrooper like CT-113 to confess, but the Mandalorian and his child are probably the best things about his work.

He can't help but admit this as he makes his way to the man's cell to deliver his lunch.

His footsteps echo throughout the prison block, a precise and meticulous rhythm, not a step out of beat.

It's a long walk to meet the prisoner, with the Mandalorian being isolated and all - the fugitive was described on his file as 'dangerously unstable' and therefore had to be separated from the others.

But the journey there grants him more opportunities to bask in the cool sensation of the prison section, which is a welcoming change from the rest of the base.

Though his strides are the consequences of years of training, his shoulders sag in relaxation, and he cracks his neck to ease the pressure. Having time to oneself is a rare chance that he's lucky to have.

The Mandalorian has been there for three days and CT-113 already likes him and the tiny, green Asset that tagged along with him much more than the rest of the inmates. 

Not that he was _supposed_ to have preferred prisoners in the first place.

Yet, he finds that there's something so... refreshing about the man. He's not irritating like CT-113's colleagues can get, nor barbaric like the usual prisoner.

Walking through past the jails leaves CT-113 as a subject to verbal abuse from those behind bars. As a guard, he faces abuse on a daily basis from all those except one. The man with the silver helmet. The man hasn't said a single sentence, but it's because of that that CT-113 doesn't despise him.

Though, it could all be a facade on the other man's end. CT-113 has yet to determine this.

With the tray of food in his hands, he greets the guards standing outside the cell before crouching down in front of the door. His fellow troopers are at the ready, adjusting into their defensive positions with their weapons prepared in case the prisoner chooses to attack.

The Mandalorian hasn't fought back in the short period he's been locked up, and CT-113 has a hunch that he never will.

CT-113 slides the food in the small slot under the door and pauses after rising. The Mandalorian is situated on the ground across from the door, his visor facing forward like he's watching everything though the bars.

 _Is he watching me?_ A chill runs up his spine, but not necessarily out of fear. 

He lingers for a moment, meeting the prisoner's gaze and raising his hand in a wave. The Mandalorian's head tilts marginally in what CT-113 translates as interest. 

One of the guards, ST-2199 his discloses after a quick scan, turns to CT-113 after he hesitates for a beat too long.

He pulls his hand back to his side and clears his throat. "As you were."

CT-113 swerves on his heel and exits, not giving in to the temptation of waving in acknowledgement. No, that would be both unnecessary _and_ friendly.

There is no need for either of those things. For all he knows, Moff Gideon or the commander in charge will execute the prisoners by the end of the week.

At the end of the day, the Mandalorian and his child are just prisoners.

That's all they are and all they'd ever be.

* * *

It's the fourth day of the Mandalorian's captivity when CT-113 is officially ordered to take over the afternoon watch. He's grown up with the lesson to never challenge his superiors etched in the back of his mind, so he's accustomed to blindly following orders.

CT-113 slides tray under the slot, once again under the scrutiny of the prisoner inside. When he rises, he addresses the other two stormtroopers.

"Officer QCQ-757 demands your presence. Says he has a new task. I've been ordered to take over your patrols, effective immediately." He tells them with finality. The one on the left inhales sharply and CT-113 turns to him with a raised brow.

"Is there a problem, ST-2199?"

"No, no," The stormtrooper on the right, ST-4501, jumps into the conversation and roughly pats the other one on the shoulder, "We'll be on our way. Thanks, CT-113."

Nodding their goodbyes, ST-4501 and ST-2199 walk away while trying to sneak glances back at CT-113 without him noticing.

He notices.

CT-113 judges everything from how sloppy their postures are to the frightened energy that emit from ST-2199. He frowns in disapproval at how obviously scared the trooper is.

_Niners, then._

They're lucky that he isn't their officer, otherwise they'd immediately be punished for forgetting their training.

 _Why would they have soldiers so green looking after a dangerous_ _criminal?_ He wonders as he watches them turn the corner.

CT-113 redirects his attention back towards the cell and sees the Mandalorian sitting across the floor, picking at the bland, dry food.

CT-113 slides a water pack over to him, which he ignores.

"Not even the Hutt around the corner would eat this." The Mandalorian mutters to no one in particular. It's the first time CT-113 has ever heard him speak.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting (something less human, maybe?), but it sounds _nice_. _Really nice._

CT-113 hates how that voice makes the man, dare he say, attractive. He hates how much a few words from the other man causes a strange heat to spread in his chest and throughout his body.

His hatred lies the most in the way he takes a liking to it all. And he wants to hear more of it.

 _His voice suits him._ He sizes up the Mandalorian from top to bottom, taking in the silver armour crafted entirely from beskar.

Huh. He doesn't know who made the foolish decision to let the Mandalorian keep it all on. Perhaps they thought it a waste of time to change him into the required outfit.

Zoned out, CT-113 doesn't realize that his eyes have been fixated on a _particular_ part of the man's body.

He doesn't notice the Mandalorian follow his gaze, looking southwards to see if there was something on his clothes.

" _Ahem._ " The Mandalorian clears his throat. CT-113's body jolts, taking a step backwards, cheeks burning in embarrassment. The other man stands up stoically.

It is an offense to make friends with a prisoner, and an outright disgrace to have any feelings towards them that are... suggestive.

"Are you going eat?" CT-113 practically yells as an attempt to divert the attention away from his mistake. He shifts his weight from one side to the other, refusing to give in to the Mandalorian's challenging stare.

The other man just continues to watch him through his helmet. His helmet that is still on. He can't eat with his helmet - _oh, right._

"Oh- uh, do you want me to like, turn around?" He can feel himself getting more flustered under the other's watchful gaze.

The gaze that is still on him.

The Mandalorian doesn't say anything. He sighs and sets the tray on the ground, sitting down beside it with no intention to pick it back up.

 _Ah._ The Mandalorian doesn't trust him. Why would he take his helmet off in the presence of a buckethead like him? The man haws probably spent ages running around and killing every person wearing his uniform. He's no exception, and it absolutely does not bother him.

 _Fine_ , CT-113 thinks bitterly, _don't accept the offer_.

Even as a dead man, the Mandalorian follows his creed until the end. 

_Has he eaten anything since he's arrived?_ CT-113 scoffs at the audacity. Of course he has, otherwise he'd already be starved.

But how? 

Did he trust ST-2199 and ST-4501 enough to take off his helmet when _their_ backs were turned? Did he prefer it when _they_ were standing guard outside his cell?

He faces away from the other man angrily, intent on sending him the cold shoulder. He assumes the position of a waiting soldier, rifle held precisely between two hands, head held up, ready to attack and defend at any given moment. The only telltale sign of his irritation is his foot, which taps away impatiently.

There's nothing to be jealous of. Why would he be? Jealous that a prisoner has favourite guards? _Pathetic._

It doesn't take a genius to see that ST-2199 is weak soldier; the Mandalorian probably threatened him to not turn around and the boy was terrified enough to comply. It's the only excuse he can think of that doesn't make him angry.

There's no way St-2199 and ST-4501 had ever talked to the Mandalorian. Sentinels aren't meant to form any sort of bond with any sort of fugitive. That would be against protocol and recklessly irresponsible.

 _The Mandalorian is a prisoner_ , CT-113 reminds himself as he grits his teeth.

He'll be sleeping on the cold floor at the end of the day, and CT-113 will be asleep in the comfort of his own bed.

* * *

The silence between them hasn't lessened at all.CT-113 follows through with h is duties as he's supposed to do, but he will not do more than that.

It's been days since they've last spoken to each other, and a part of the trooper knows that he's overreacting, but the other more immature part of him tells him to keep up the act.

It's not as easy as CT-113 anticipated, and it's even more difficult when Mandalorian acts as though he expects CT-113 to start talking to him again.

CT-113 suspects that the man is as stubborn as he is, and neither of them want to be the first to cut the tension.

He can feel the glare of the Mandalorian and his fingers start to cramp at the continuous strained grip on his rifle, but he will not comply. Without any warning, the captive sighs loudly.

He's on the borderline of telling the bounty hunter to keep his mouth shut, when he suddenly says;

"They fall asleep, you know?" It sounds like an apology. Because it came so unexpectedly, the hairs on the back of CT-113's neck stand on end at the voice. It fulfills a desire in him that he didn't know existed.

"Uh, what?" CT-113 says dumbly, forgetting that he was supposed to mad. He turns towards the man, who is mere inches away CT-113 didn't even hear him move. If there wasn't a wall separating them, he'd be close enough to touch.

"The other two. The ST-Whatevers. They fall asleep on duty."

"... Oh." Is the smart reply he came up with after three days of the silent treatment. The Mandalorian tilts his head at him (which is kind of charming in it's own way), and CT-113 can just _tell_ that the Mandalorian is judging him.

"I don't blame them. I should take a nap soon I'm- uh, feeling kind of tired myself." He feigns a yawn to add to his point.

Though they are separated by two helmets, one made from the most enduring material known to any creature, plus a steel cage door, the Mandalorian can still see right through him.

The Mandalorian lets out a short chuckle that makes his stomach flip, and he bites his lip to further prevent him from saying something as stupid as a compliment. 

"Are you?" The question is heavily laced with amusement. CT-113 narrows his eyes, trying not to let the other man see his humiliation.

" _Yes._ " CT-113 snaps back at him, "I'm going to sleep now, so go eat your cardboard or something."

The Mandalorian laughs at him again, his hands raised in a mock-sign of defeat. He moves back to his usual place in the cell and CT-113 _positively_ does not watch him walk away.

Shortly after, when the only sounds are the every-so-often shouts of inmates down the hall and around the corner, CT-113 is half-awake and slumped with his back against the cell door.

It's probably just his imagination in his dream-like state, but he swears he can feel a new kind of warmth behind him, as though something else has pressed up against the door. He subconsciously searches for a way to get more comfortable, only stopping when his face is resting on the bars, and his fingers are latched onto what feels to be a thin blanket. 

He dozes off to the sound of metal clattering on concrete.

Absurdity be damned; The Mandalorian is well past being his favourite inmate.

* * *

CT-113 has a soft spot for the Mandalorian's child, as well. Seeing as how CT-113 is one of the few people that the child seems to tolerate, he's willing to bet that the tiny creature (somewhat?) likes him too.

It's because of this that CT-113 has been assigned to watch over both the Madalorian and child. In the beginning, had taken it as some kind of bad luck being taken out of snowtrooper field to watch over some outlaws back at the base. Now, he thinks it to be a blessing in disguise.

Hell, if he wasn't surrounded by such stuck-up colleagues, he might even prefer this to being in the snow.

Being known by other stormtroopers as a 'babysitter' has caused most of them to belittle his abilities as a fighter, as if he didn't go through vigorous years of conditioning like them. Some even go so far as to mock him to his face, making a game of who will be the first one to break him. 

However, the moments he spends alone with the child in its pseudo-prison room makes it all worth it.

The door slides open, and CT-113 walks in to a stressed out Doctor Pershing attempting to scan the vitals of a fussy green baby. At the sound of the door opening, the child stops fussing and cries out happily from where it's sitting on its small bed.

The creature smiles at CT-113 when he lets it hold onto one of his fingers. He softly taps the tip of its nose, and it giggles and reaches for his nose in retaliation, slapping the front of his helmet.

With the child successfully distracted by the appearance of the trooper, Pershing manages a successful scan even as it squirms.

As soon as he is finished the checkup, the doctor packs his equipment in a back, trying to leave as fast as he can. Apparently, the doctor does not have a good history with stormtroopers, and can only be around them for so long until he starts to panic.

"It's getting more agitated these days and- and your commander isn't too happy. Just- find some way to calm it down. Please," The doctor adds the plea, like he's already overstepped his boundaries. He was the one who requested CT-113 to be in charge of the child, stating that it needed something to keep its stress levels low, and for some reason, the child trusts CT-113 the most.

When they turn to look at the child, it is the picture of innocence, raising its arms to CT-113.

"Got it, doc." CT-113 says, lifting the child and placing it on floor so it can walk around. He pays no mind to the doctor as he practically runs out, instead, focusing his attention on the toddler wobbling around the room.

"Don't eat that!" He warns it when it starts to put the cap of a pill bottle in its mouth. It grumbles at him but puts the cap down anyways and goes off to search for another plaything.

The small child is curious by nature, and turns to CT-113 when it wants explanations for things it doesn't understand.

Before he knows, the child has found something new and has already toddled to the stormtrooper. It holds a cotton ball in its tiny hands, black eyes staring up at CT-113. The child coos as it raises its hands higher to give him a better look.

"It's cotton, kid. Never seen it before?" 

The kid sends him a look that he can only interpret as, ' _why else would I be asking?_ '. The expression faintly reminds him of its father, and a corner of CT-113's mouth quirks up.

"Alright," He says kneeling to be at eye level with the little one. He holds a hand out and the child carefully places the cotton in his hands, as though it could shatter if it dropped it too hard. It waits patiently for him to begin his lecture.

"This can be used for a lot of things, actually," The kid looks at him in disbelief, and CT-113 can't hold back his grin. He squishes the cotton ball between his thumb and index finger, causing the child to cry out in fear. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's all fluff, see? These are in med-kits, hospital rooms..." CT-113 trails off at the child's confusion.

"For you, you could probably find these in one of your stuffed animals." The child gasps at the new information.

At the mention of stuffed toys, the child's eyes widen with fascination and it stares at the cotton as though it's something precious. 

It's the most adorable thing CT-113 has ever seen.

Without hesitation, he reaches over to rub the cotton against the little one's cheek. It makes a happy sound at the sensation, and keeps the fluff pressed against its face even after CT-113 stops holding it.

With a fondness that he can't begin to describe, CT-113 affectionately strokes the tip of one of the little one's ears.

_If only you had the chance to be a child._

* * *

On the eighth day, CT-113 learns something new about the Mandalorian.

"... How is he?" The Mandalorian is not the dangerously unstable criminal that the imperials have made him out to be. "The child... Is he alright?"

The prisoners stands like a victim on the receiving end of a blaster; a sight that CT-113 knows like the back of his hand. The man's shoulders are vaguely showing signs of tucking in to himself. His voice wavers, and this time, it's not because of the modulator in his helmet.

CT-113 now understands why the Mandalorian never fights back. The stormtrooper knows the difference between warriors who cower out of fear and those who fight for themselves. This Mandalorian is the one to run headfirst into war with no second thought. The only thing that keeps him in line is at the expense of his child.

He won't fight for his life if it means saving his son's. An dull ache spreads across CT-113's chest for the love he has for his child. There's an urge burning inside of CT-113 to earn the Mandalorian's trust, and more importantly, to make him happy.

He wishes he could help him, but there's no way to do it without drawing unwanted attention from his superiors. 

The Mandalorian returns to sit against the back wall, elbows resting on bent knees, head tilted up. CT-113 imagines that his eyes are closed, a defeated look on his face.

 _Maybe..._ He ponders, not liking how exhausted the man looks.

By the end of the next day, under the false pretense to Pershing that the child needs to be relieved of some stress, and with the reluctant approval of Officer QCQ-757, CT-113 manages to schedule a reunion with the Mandalorian and his son.

* * *

The child peers up at CT-113 from where its held in the man's arms. It's swaddled in layers of blankets in order to shield it from the permanent chill that resides in the prisons. 

It's the perfect temperature for CT-113, but not for a creature so small that the weakest wind could topple it over.

All eyes behind the cells are honed in on the bundle that he's carrying. When the child whines in fear, CT-113 instinctively pulls in closer to his chest, bouncing it gently.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Pershing whispers to him, watching the prisoners behind the bars.

CT-113 rolls his eyes. "Just keep walking."

Immediately upon saying this, a yellow Twi'lek hisses at the doctor when he nears her chamber. She laughs at his cowardice, and a Hutt across from her joins in on her amusement.

"We should go -"

CT-113 stops in place and the doctor slams into his back due to him clinging closely. The doctor is now practically trembling in fear. CT-113 glances down at the child. Sighing, he decides to take pity on the man.

"We'll be fine, okay? Trust me."

Leaving it at that, he walks away, not caring if the doctor follows him or not.

By the time they reach the man's cell, the child has chosen to trot along behind CT-113, getting too fidgety in his arms.

ST-2199 is the only person on duty, his meat head partner nowhere to be found. "CT-113." He greets, already well-informed of the plan and the precautions he must take for it.

The Mandalorian is already at the front of his cell when ST-2199 warily unlocks it. He doesn't move, unsure of what they're doing.

And then the little one decides to make its appearance from behind CT-113. It gasps and wobbles as fast as it can with its short legs straight. The Mandalorian sinks to his knees and picks up the child with practiced ease, hugging it tightly.

" _Ni ceta, ner ad'ika_... _Ni eparavur takisit_." The Mandalorian strokes the top of his son's head as it attempts to wrap its arms around his body. " _Su orikih,_ huh?"

"B-Boo. Eeh." The toddler burbles in response and presses its forehead against its fathers.

As he watches the scene unfold, CT-113 feels the air around him light. He's proud of himself for making this happen, and is glad that while he doesn't have much to offer, he can at least do this.

* * *

His relationship with the Mandalorian changes from then on.

As the days go on, the insatiable need to get closer to the Mandalorian and his son grows and grows. As CT-113 continues to spend with them, he comes to understand them.

He learns odd things, like how the child hates the feeling of oatmeal, but is willing to eat it when CT-113 sneaks a mind boggling amount of sugar into it - something that always gives him a hyper baby bouncing of the walls, using its mystical powers to make objects dance around the room.

How could he forget - the baby's powers. It takes the child floating a giant wad of cotton balls in his face one particular evening for CT-113 to understand why this tiny creature has a bounty over its head for an insane reward.

He manages to familiarize himself with the Mandalorian's quick wit and dry sense of humour, and laughs until his stomach hurts over silly comments on several of his fellow stormtroopers.

He also learns that the Mandalorian's ship had been shot down by stormtroopers on patrol, causing them to crash into an ice planet and right into the hands of Imperials. CT-113 listens closely to that story in particular.

If he hadn't been swapped last minute due to lack of trust from their officer, CT-113 would have been the one to capture the Mandalorian and his son.

CT-113 decides it best to not bring that fact up.

They discuss anything they can come up with in the designated four hours that CT-113 has to stay with him.

The armoured man no longer shies away to the back of the room when CT-113 gets there, instead choosing to get as close as possible.

Sometimes they stand together, but when a few days turn into three weeks, they start making themselves more comfortable, choosing to sit on the floor face-to-face. Though there is a literal wall distancing them, it's the closest CT-113's felt to anyone at the base.

They've hit the twenty four day mark, almost a month since the duo was left in captivity. They're not sure when they'll be forced to put whatever it is between them to an end, but the threat constantly looms over their heads. They treat everyday with each other as though they'll be their last, because they very well could be.

It gets harder for him to distance himself from the Mandalorian or the Asset, and CT-133 worries that he's nearing the final string of his good luck.

At the end of it all, the magical child and his warrior father are still two captives who have lost their battles, and CT-113 is still on the wrong side of the fight.

 _He has to put an end this,_ he tries to convince himself each time he parts from the former bounty hunter.

But it gets harder for CT-113 to convince himself what he's doing is wrong when his feelings for the Mandalorian begin to turn something akin to love.

* * *

He loves the child, too. He doesn't know how the Mandalorian would feel at the thought of the stormtrooper loving his son, but he wants to protect this child with every fibre of his being.

Doctor Pershing holds the arm of the small creature in one hand and a needle in the other. The child is on the verge of tears, its feet flail around wildly as it tries to scramble away from the doctor. 

"Moving makes it hurt more," Pershing pleads. His words are meant to soothe the child, but it has the opposite effect. It wails loudly in fear, reaching to CT-113 in desperation.

When the doctor looks like he's about to have his own crying fit, CT-113 has an idea.

"Don't tell anyone about this, you got that?" CT-113 threatens, though he doubts the man will tattle regardless.  
  
The doctor nods in fear, not knowing what he's agreeing to, and his jaws drop as CT-113 lifts off his helmet.

Placing the helmet to the side, he goes to grab the free hand of the toddler, smiling gently.

"Hey, hey, shh. It's alright," He says in hopes of comforting it.

The child hiccups and stares at his face in awe. A few stray tears roll down its cheeks, but thankfully, after CT-113 carefully wipes them away, no new ones fall.

" _Boo_. _Eeh_. Boo." It babbles as it pats his face. He recognizes the gibberish from before, when it said the same things to its father.

"Yeah, I'm here, kid."

From then on, the child starts to call CT-113 what he can only describe as 'boo-eh' whenever they meet. 

He assumes it's because of his blue eyes.

* * *

 _This is the dumbest idea I've ever had_.

By the stars, this plan was so unbelievably stupid, a bounty over should be placed on him for it's sheer idiocy. 

He's waiting nervously in front of the Mandalorian who is speechless (though he usually is) but this time CT-113 would appreciate it if he would show some type of reaction. Anything was better than nothing. 

He smiles and suddenly feels ten times stupider than he had this morning.

Oh, yeah, did he mention he didn't have his helmet on?

CT-113 laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. His own heartbeart is thrumming in his ears and he can't quite get over the fact that he's standing here right now.

"I realized I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself. My name is Corin Valentis." CT-113 moves a move to reach into the cage at an attempt at a handshake, but at the last second settles for a wave, which doesn't help him feel any less pathetic. 

Mando mirrors with a wave in return, just as awkward. "Don't expect me to do the same." 

"No," CT-113 laughs, a brilliant smile gracing his features, "I didn't think you would."

"Huh." The Mandalorian says, sounding strangled.

"That bad?" CT-113 attempts to joke over his insecurities. "Were you expecting an Ugnaught?"

He watches the man shake his head, before settling his gaze back on him. "Besalisk, actually." He states, stretching a hand forward as if to reach through the bars. CT-113 sees this and leans closer until his forehead touches the cool metal of the bars. He holds his breath in anticipation and the Mandalorian's fingers trail over his cheek like a feather. 

The hand falls down to CT-113's neck, where the palm slides back to his nape, a thumb brushing the underside of his jaw.

With a sigh, CT-113 lets his eyes flutter shut. He tilts his head in order to revel in the touch, and feels his lips brush against something.

When he opens his eyes, he sees a sliver of the Mandalorian's exposed skin where his glove and shirt don't quite meet. 

Gently taking a hold of that wrist, CT-113's gazes into the visor where he pictures the other man's eyes are.

" _Kandosii'la_." The Mandalorian blurts out. CT-113's eyes widen in surprise at the intensity behind it and - surprise, surprise - the blood rushes to his cheeks once more.

"What does that mean?" CT-113 doesn't need to speak a lick of Mando'a to know what it means.

"... Nothing." It's a blatant lie and they both know it, but the Mandalorian doesn't add anything else. 

Instead, he opts for leaning forward himself, his own forehead resting on the spot where CT-113's would be if they weren't set apart.

* * *

"Is your dad seeing someone?" CT-113 distractedly asks, draped across a child's bed that is twice his size. He turns his head to the young tot sitting on the floor.

The toddler looks up from where it's making cotton swab trooper pieced together with band-aids and gives him a blank stare. He waits expectantly for it to answer. The child holds up the cotton swab doll and blows a spit bubble.

He hums thoughtfully, giving it an off-handed compliment on its artistic skills.

"I'll take that as a no."

The child makes a happy noise and claps its little hands together.

* * *

Over a month of knowing the family of two, CT-113 learns something that makes him feel hopeful for the first time in years.

CT-113 sits crossed legged in front of the cell door, a routine that he now follows out of habit.

The Mandalorian mirrors his position from the other side. He explains to CT-113 the day of their capture, retelling the fears and the moment he realized that he was trapped with no possible escape from the situation.

"I never thanked you. For letting me see the child." The Mandalorian says softly. "I didn't think I'd see him again." He swallows hard, the regret evident in his voice.

The earnest gratitude makes CT-113's head swarm. He doesn't deserve the credit the Mandalorian is giving him. He hasn't done anything to make himself useful. 

But he wants to help the Mandalorian in any way that he can, even if it ends up being insignificant.

 _It's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself. There's nothing you could do._ He wants to tell him.

Instead, he slowly slides his fingers on the floor and under the tiny slot, sighing in relief when the Mandalorin joins him, intertwining their fingers. He squeezes his hand, holding on more firmly. 

CT-113 hopes that, for now, this will be enough.

It's day thirty four when he allows that hope to stay with him until he's in the comfort of his own bed.

He reminiscences about his time with the Mandalorian, where they started up to where they are now.

Perhaps he's gotten too attached to false hopes, or he's completely lost his mind, but at some point in the night, he thinks the Mandalorian loves him back.

* * *

It's the thirty sixth day.

Right when CT-113 feels as though everything is going in his favour, the world around him falls out of place.

Examination of the child, it seems, has come to a conclusion. Despite Doctor Pershing's best efforts, there is no further use to keep the child around. The Mandalorian is to be executed tomorrow afternoon. In order to make a statement, Moff Gideon announces that the event will be open to the public.

It was a decision made to spark in fear into the hearts of all criminals and those against the Imperials. That even those as strong as the Mandalorian cannot run forever.

CT-113 rushes as fast as can to the Mandalorian's cell, ignoring all the confused looks from all the prisoners and ST-4501 when he breezes past without so much as a glance in their direction. There's only one person he's interested in seeing.

By the time he gets there, he's breathing heavily and is hyper-aware of the bucket resting on his head. All at once, it's _too_ restricting, _too_ tight, _too much_ of _everything._

In all his frustration, he takes his helmet off with both hands, tossing it carelessly to the side with a crashing thud and cursing the day his father forced it upon him in the first place.

Corin has never wanted anything given to him in his lifetime, and the two things he wants more than the universe are slipping through his fingers before he could grasp them. 

It's not fair.

"I'm sorry," Corin says, though he has nothing to apologize for. It wasn't his decision to make, but he can't help but feeling that this is a result of his wrongdoings.

It's not fair to any of them.

The Mandalorian's hands are on his face in an instant, brushing his thumbs against the stormtrooper's face. The gentleness of the touch causes bile to rise up Corin's throat, and he reaches up to cover his Mandalorian's hands with his own.

They didn't deserve death, hell, they didn't deserve to be locked up in the first place. 

"It's not your fault." The Mandalorian tries to console him, but it falls on deaf ears. Corin's whole face has turned red, and he shakes his head, on the brink of insanity.

"I don't know what to do."

"Corin... " The Mandalorian falters at his pleading expression. 

"Tell me what you need." Corin begs, his hands already grasping at the bars in desperation. His forehead meets the cell bars, and he pulls at the Mandalorian's head so that he can follow suit. " _Please._ " 

"... Lunch would be nice."

* * *

Corin has no moves left. There is no one on the Mandalorian's side and no option that doesn't end in disaster. The only thing he can do is wait.

The fork clatters against the tray as the Mandalorian finishes his meal. There's a different metallic sound followed by a shuffle once more. The man behind bars sighs, the exhale distorted by the modulator.

The stormtrooper's shoulders sag in a disappointment at the realization that he will never see what the man looks like. This is as close as he'll ever be to the Mandalorian removing his helmet in front of him.

 _It is forbidden for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet in front a living being._ CT-113 recalls the information as he stares up at the ceiling. He can feels the tears blurring his vision, but so long as he keeps his head up, they cannot fall down.

 _An exception to this would be their children and their beloved._ 'Beloved' being their wives... Or their husbands.

The other man sits as well. CT-113 can feel their backs pressing against each other between the gaps of the door. He feels a slight push on the back of his head, and he knows that the Mandalorian is looking up at the ceiling as well.

"Din. Djarin." The man says,"My name is Din Djarin."

There's a pause as the Mandalorian holds his breath, awaiting a response from the stormtrooper.

"Din," Corin repeats the name aloud, feeling the way it rolls off his tongue for the first and last time. "Do you think if things were different... If we weren't... If you-" His words fumble around, not sure of how to ask the question the way he wants.

"Yes." Din replies in a heartbeat.

Corin nods, knowing very well that the Mandalorian cannot see it. The stormtrooper knows that it will make no difference whether he could or not.

* * *

That night, Corin lies on his back under the covers of his blanket. Usually at this point, he would have already passed out the moment he got to his bed. Corin finds that there isn't a part of him that wants to fall asleep, and stares up the dark, blankly looking at nothing.

He trails off in a daydreaming, thinking of all the stories the man had told him about his space travels. He wonders what life would've been like if he had joined him. To joke with the Mandalorian without fear of someone overhearing, to hear him laugh freely in the safety of his ship.

He thinks of the child's fascination with the world, and pictures the little womp rat exploring every new planet with his wide eyes, ears perking up in delight and fingers pointing into the unknown. Corin has only seen them together once, but he knows that the Mandalorian and the child would make quite the pair.

He tries to imagine himself fitting into their family of two. Would it even be possible for a stormtrooper like him to join a family like them?

Such questions are useless. There is no point in answering it. Even if it were possible, it would never happen.

The Mandalorian and his child were prisoners.

By the end of tomorrow, they would be nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I had a whole multi-chapter story planned but I wasn't sure if people would be interested in reading all of that so I made it into a short, condensed version of it hehe.  
> Whatever happens afterwards is up to you! Was I going to write the original ending? Of course! But that's no fun, now is it? ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3  
> (ps. I started a whole tumblr because I am Mandalorian trash. Please [feel free to join me](https://mandos-cape.tumblr.com/) hehe cause I know nobody. - If the link doesn't work, my tumblr is mandos-cape)


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